Refuge
by LiteraryLullaby
Summary: When Miley ran away, Oliver expected to never see her again. He most certainly didn’t expect her to show up on his doorstep 367 days later. Now he must discover her terrible secret before it destroys her, and possibly him.
1. Grilled Cheese For Two?

**Wow, it's been a long while. Bleh, I'll write a longer note at the bottom. This is not a oneshot. It is a multichap. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own HM, Juno, or any other product/whatever I may mention in this story.**

**-**

**Monday, November 9, 2009 at 6:34 PM in my bedroom**

As already stated, today is the November 9. Today is the day I hate more than any other day of the year. It's been on all of our calendars, looming there like some ominous reminder of what happened one year ago.

365 days ago, Miley Ray Stewart ran away from home.

It was possibly the worst night of my life. No, it was the worst week of my life. We all, me, Lilly, Jackson, and Robbie Ray, spent the whole week just waiting for any sign that she might be coming back.

356 days ago, Miley Ray Stewart was declared missing.

That tore us all apart. The thought of never seeing Miley again was too hard for any of us to contemplate. We've had 365 days to contemplate it, and I still can't except it. I'm not sure how it is with everyone else, since we don't talk.

After her disappearance, Lilly and I spent three agonizing weeks searching for a reason for her to leave. After carefully and thoroughly inspecting her bedroom, we found no evidence of any sort of problems.

Police investigations proved that there were no family issues. Lilly and I would sit there for hours on end just recalling things Miley had said to us, analyzing for any sort of clue. Every time we thought we had a lead, it ended up not being true.

About a month after her disappearance, Lilly began hanging out with the popular crowd. I don't know why, but suddenly Amber and Ashley took a liking to her. After ditching me to hang out with them a few times, she cut off all communication.

I haven't talked to Lilly since then.

As for Miley's family, they don't really talk to anyone anymore. I remember walking into their house one day and her dad angrily told me to go home and never come back. I was a bit shocked, since months earlier he had referred to me as the "normal, responsible son he'd never had". Jackson quickly pulled me outside.

"You remind him of her. He doesn't like being reminded of her." Were his exact words.

I don't really know why, but somehow Miley's departure changed me. I guess it's mostly because I have no friends now and my only friend is a notebook I write in everyday. It also might be because Miley was a big part of my life, and now that she's gone I feel like I have this huge chunk missing.

I'm going to go and scream into my pillow for a little bit.

**Same day at 6:51 PM in my bedroom**

Something weird happened. Lilly sent me a text message. And a nice one at that. She hasn't talked to me for 11 months. Well, she hasn't talked to me _nicely _in 11 months. She yelled "Nice nostrils, Ollie-boar. Did you get them enlarged?" in the hallway to me like three months ago. I think it was a dare.

Amber and Ashley gave me that mean nickname, Ollie-boar. It seems that the worst thing they can find about me is my nostrils. They're not even bad, my nostrils, that is. But, of course, they _make _them seem bad. Since boars have upturned noses, which therefore have some monster nostrils, they called me Ollie-boar.

But today Lilly sent me a rather kind text message. A strange and slightly creepy (okay, not that creepy) text message.

You want to know what it said?

"Stay strong, Oliver. This day is hurting me as much as it's hurting you."

What the _hell_?!

Since when did she think she could be empathetic towards me? Last I checked, her "best friends" make fun of me on a regular basis. And all she does is stand behind them and stare at her fingernails the whole time. She cannot just come prancing (technically, it would be texting) back into my life like some Fairy Godmother.

Lilly and I do not talk. We don't even make eye contact. In fact, we don't even disgrace our minds with the terrible thought of the other. Okay, so that one's not entirely true, since I'm writing about her, and technically she had to _think _to send me that message.

The only thing we have in common any more is the fact that we both miss Miley. Other than that, we have nothing in common. Nada. Zip. Zero. Uh, "nothing" in French. We don't even have air as a similarity. I breathe clean air. Lilly breathes toxic perfume air. We have nothing at all.

Surfing? No, ever since she became friends with Amber and Ashley she thinks 'ocean hair' is gross.

Skateboarding? Last time I checked, popular girls didn't get helmet hair or bloody knees.

Talking? We don't even have that. Now all she talks about is "Ehmagawd, that lady gave me a _bad _pedi! My nails do _not _match my new stalettos! Honest to blog, I am _so_ never going there again!" That's actually what I heard her tell Ashley in Earth Science yesterday.

Honest to blog? Amber and Ashley aren't smart enough to figure it out, but I totally know that she stole that line from Juno.

I'm saving that message she sent me, though. Because for the first time in a long time, I have hope that the old Lilly is still in there somewhere.

**Tuesday, November 10, 2009 at 8:31 AM on the bus**

Sorry if my handwriting is bad, I'm on a very bumpy bus ride.

Anyway, Jackson came over my house yesterday. It was awkward. He said that all his dad was doing was moping, so he wanted to be able to mourn without the dramatics. Which made it even more awkward.

How would you feel if the older brother of your missing best friend came over your house on the anniversary of her disappearance to mourn his younger sister? Yeah, you'd feel awkward too.

He just sat on my couch and watched the episode of Zombie High she guest starred in like nonstop. Don't think it's weird, I know that episode word for word because I watched it so much. I guess we're all desperate for a glimpse of Miley moving and talking.

Oh, and he watched a recorded concert of hers I have. In fact, he watched it three times. I remember back when he absolutely hated anything Hannah Montana from hearing it so much from his family. It makes sense that he'd want to hear _something_ about her.

After Hannah's manager (his dad) announced that she would be taking a break from the spotlight and spending the next three years in Greenland, gossip shows don't really talk about her anymore.

Anyway, the day passed and I can live without feeling so melancholy. That is, until November 18, which is the anniversary of the day she was declared missing.

I'm going to leave, Amber, Ashley, and Lilly just sat around me. This can't be good.

**Tuesday, November 10, 2009 at 8:38 AM on the same bus**

Any hope from yesterday I had of the old Lilly still existing deep down in the new Lilly is gone. Oh, and did I mention that I have detention? Yes, I stole that from the Suite Life of Zack and Cody. Miley made me watch it with her. Seriously, what in the world attracts people to watch that Disney crap?

Back on the topic of my detention, let me illustrate what happened in the past seven minutes.

"Hey, Ollie! Is that a diary?" Amber asked, turning around in her seat to face me. I hate it when she calls me Ollie. That's what Miley used to call me, and with it being the day after the anniversary of when she left, I'm still a little touchy around the subject.

"Don't call me Ollie." I demanded in a low voice. I glanced up at Lilly, who was fidgeting like mad.

"Ooh, looks like Olliekins is a little moody today. You know, I have some Midol if you want to borrow it!" Ashley sneered. I hate it even more when they call me Olliekins, because that's not only what Miley called me, she also made up the nickname.

"Only one person is allowed to call me that." I growl.

"Oh, I hate to break it to you, Ollie-boar, but Miley is gone. I guess she got tired of your PMSing and hightailed it out of here." Amber snickered. I felt tears burn the edge of my eyes, but I knew I couldn't cry. Guys don't cry. But still, the two had pushed it too far.

"That's enough!" I screamed, standing up and glaring violently at the two.

"Wow, we must really know how to push Ollie-boar's buttons. You know, your tempramentalness is probably what drove Miley to leave." Ashley sighed snootily.

"Listen, you two! If you ever, and I mean _ever_, talk about Miley one more time I swear I will not hesistate to take drastic measures!" I screamed. Amber and Ashley seemed amused, while Lilly looked both scared and sad. Of the three, she's the only one that knew I wasn't joking.

"You better watch it, Ollie-boar. Miley doesn't like guys with tempers. Oh, wait, she's not here. I guess she was fed up with your temper as it was." Amber taunted.

I usually have really great self control, but this was just too far. I pulled my arm back and swung at Amber. But before my fist could even touch her, the bus driver's hand caught it. I then realized that the bus had stopped and everone was looking at me like I was crazy.

"That'll be an afterschool detention, Oken. Tomorrow until four, and you better be there." The bus driver sighed. This isn't the first time this has happened. In fact, it's the fourth. One more time and I get kicked off the bus for good.

If Lilly had any heart, she would have stopped her friends from instigating a fight.

Too bad Amber and Ashley destroyed her heart.

**Wednesday, November 11, 2009 at 2:40 PM in detention**

I can't believe I got detention.

Actually, I can believe it. Luckily, though, the detention is being held by Mr. Grant, this awesome teacher of ours. He was our Algebra teacher last year, and then became our Geometry teacher this year.

In fact, he's letting us watch a movie while we're being detained. Unfortunately, the only movie available to him was some sappy chick flick from the 70s. So, instead of watching said chick flick, I decided writing in my journal would be so much better.

Hmm, what can I write? Well, school was normal today. All of the girls are afraid of me now because I almost punched Amber yesterday. And all of the guys are giving me these looks that say a mixture of 'you sicken me' and 'dude, you really messed up big time'.

Other than that, I get to sit in a stuffy detention room with a bunch of people who actually deserve detention. Let me give you the class list here:

Dennis – He's in detention because he set his History book on fire, then gave it back to his teacher, still on fire.

Brian, Wes, Adam, and Dan – They're this group of skater kids who always get detention for skipping class and going to the skate park instead. They've been friends for ever and are always together. Ha, that rhymed. Forever, together. I never noticed that. Oh, wait, back on subject.

Andromeda – Well, she's bound to be bad, seeing that her parents actually named her Andromeda. Anyway, apparently she was dealing. And not drugs, either. No, she was actually dealing used scooters (which she probably stole).

Craig – Craig is one of those football jocks. He beats up some unlucky nerd (fortunately, I don't count because Jackson is tutoring him in English and must have struck a deal to get him to leave me alone) everyday. This time, it was George Gibbs.

Fantasia (pronounced Fan-tay-see-uh) – Her name isn't really Fantasia, it's Anna. But she's a hardcore goth and threatens that if you don't call her Fantasia then she'll put a spell on you. She's here for trying to curse her teacher.

Derrick – No one really knows why Derrick is ever in detention. He moved here about a year ago and gets detention for no apparent reason almost every day.

Candace – Candace, more commonly known as Candee, is the school slut. She's always in detention for getting caught having sex during school hours. No joke.

Well, that's it. All of them creep me out. Well, not Craig and the skateboarding quartet. But the rest do. Especially Candee. She keeps eyeing me and winking whenever she catches my eye. Eww. I bet she has like fifteen STD's.

**Wednesday, November 11, 2009 at 4:37 PM in my living room**

Holy hell.

Holy freaking hell.

Holy motherfreaking hell.

What in the name of Mrs. Butterworth is going on?

Holy motherfreaking inferno raging inside of hell!

I think I need glasses.

**Wednesday, November 11, 2009 at 9:58 PM in my room**

Well, I am flabbergasted, to put it lightly.

Such a strange word, flabbergasted. My mom used it one time and I thought she meant that she'd been battling a ghost made of flubber. But, as it turns out, she was actually just shocked.

So am I.

But before I explain why, let me go back to when detention let out. Then I'll work my way up to the thing that made me so flabbergasted. The entry before this was written while the flabbergasting event was occuring.

Anyway, back to detention. Well, Mr. Grant, being as awesome as he is, let us all out five minutes early. Yay! Okay, it's not that great. But still, it was a kind gesture towards us detainees. And we got 300 entire seconds of our lives back!

Hmm, things you could do in five minutes. Win the lottery. Sing a song. Heat up spaghetti in the microwave. Dance a jig. Buy an iPod online. Download new software on your computer. Save a bunch of money on your car insurance by switching to Geico.

Nearly get raped by a future stripper who is desperately seeking a temporary lover willing to have a one night stand.

Hmm, which one do you think I did?

No, not the jig. Though I did consider it. No, not the spaghetti. Why would there be a microwave outside of school? Don't answer. And no, not the car insurance. Though meeting that gecko would have been awesome.

Ding ding ding, we have a winner. The last one! That's right, ladie's and gents, I was sexually assaulted and scarred for the rest of my life. No, this was not the flabbergasting event. As if I could write and fight off a sex offender simulaneously. But thanks for thinking I could.

Anyway, the second I got out of the door, Candee pounced on me. And no, I am not speaking metaphorically. She literally leapt onto me and knocked me onto the ground. Now you see why this woman freaks me out.

Now, just a request, picture me saying the following description of my attack in a spooky, scary manner. You know, like I'm telling you a ghost story or something. This is kind of like a ghost story, but a million times scarier. Ooh, and try to imagine some scary music in the background, if you don't mind. Just for dramatic effect.

"I want you, Ollie-boar." She whispered. It did not (Ooh, no contraction. Totally bone chilling, right?) come as a surprise that she called me Ollie-boar. That's what half of the school knows me as, thanks to Amber, Ashley, and Lilly, those dark, condescending witches of the night. (You see, I'm making it sound scary!)

"Uh, I don't want you." I answered nervously, the sweat gathering on my forehead. I am, to this very day, terrified of this woman. She is probably going to end up being an exotic dancer at a club where only those miscreants who are a detriment to society gather. (Or a rapist, depending on the way her life turns out.)

"I heard you almost slapped Amber Addison." She smiled, her gleaming teeth shimmering in sunlight, also ignoring my previous words. "Will you slap me? Because _I_ actually want to be spanked."

(Reading this, you are probably in full knowledge of how much my life sucks. I don't even like this dumb journal. But, seeing that I have no friends, it's the only thing I have to talk to. Yeah, you've also noticed that I'm a total loser, since I'm writing like the Grimm Brothers.)

Don't you think that's pathetic, journal? That the only thing I can talk to is a notebook? Well, not anymore, after what happened this afternoon. But I'm not at that part of my story yet.

So, here I was, being held down by a horny future stipper/rapist, under the complete impression that I was going to be molested by this sex pistol.

Oh, crap. Back to spooky version.

But just before this malicious temptress forced me to join in the spiteful act of love, she was ripped off me by Mr. Grant, a noble in these halls of education.

Okay, here is where you insert that music that always plays in the Saw movies. You know, it goes "dun dun dun, dun dun dun, duh duh duh". Wait, you can't type music into a computer. Whatever, you know the song.

Now, let it fade out…and …back to normal!

Spooky, huh?

If I haven't said it before, is the most awesome teacher in the world. Project extensions, short detentions, saving me from a stripper/rapist sex pistol, you name it, Mr. Grant will do it.

"Well, Candace, it seems like I have once again caught you trying to take advantage of another member of this school's innocent male population." Mr. Grant sighed. He took out a detention slip (do teachers carry those around outside of school?) and gave her _three _detentions. Usually he gives her two for her attempted sexual encounters.

The fact that he gave her three for trying it on me just goes to show that I am one of his favorite students.

Anyway, after Candee left with some guy (her next victim, I suppose), Mr. Grant turned to me and asked me about my ride. He obviously doesn't know much about my mom if he thought she was going to pick me up.

I quickly explained that my mom thinks that detention isn't punishment enough and that I should have to walk home. Then Mr. Grant asked me where I lived, a question which I answered truthfully. Then he said the most suprising thing.

"Oh, that's on my way home. How about I drive you there? Don't worry, your mom won't find out you skipped your march of guilt." He smiled, patting me on the back. I was totally amazed. But, still, I had to agree that I did not want to walk home. So I agreed and let him give me a ride.

In the car, the weirdest thing happened. He put in a CD and, to my complete surprise, the sound of Hannah Montana burst through his speakers. Who would have expected Mr. Grant to be a Hannah Montana fan?

Then again, it wasn't as creepy as my mom's strange obsession with listening to Bon Jovi. I mean, really, how many times can you listen to "Living on a Prayer" before it gets old? Oh, we're halfway there. Oh, we're living on a prayer.

Seriously. Is he not moving or something? Because I'm pretty sure you're only halfway there for like a millisecond, then you're like four sevenths there or something. He's not very efficient if he sits there for four whole minutes singing about how he's halfway there.

Even though the topic of Bon Jovi's apparent sedimentary state is extremely rivetting (in my opinion), you are probably getting bored. Wait, do journals get bored? I think they do. At least when I write in them.

When I bought you, you were probably thinking, "Yay, this kid just bought me! Yippee, I get to be written in! So, what'll it be? Algebra homework? History notes? Wait, wait, wait. Is he using me as a journal? That is so stupid. Well, at least I'll have an interesting story. Oh, crap, this kid's life is boring. Thanks for ruining my life kid. You could've passed History, but no, writing down your personal feelings are more important. What kind of teenage boy are you, anyway? Writing in a journal. Pfft, journals are for losers. You could've passed history, kid. You could've passed history."

That was really long, but you're just thinking to yourself with no one to answer, so you can go on thinking this life long monologue if you wanted to and never stop. I wonder if you think I'm a loser. Is that what your inner journal monologue is about?

Er, yeah, I shouldn't be expecting an answer, should I? Back to the story.

I don't like listening to Hannah Montana. Not after her publicist released that she would be taking a long break from Hollywood, a.k.a. Miley ran away and no one could find her. Her music just irks me, since I can hear her voice clearly but not see her in the flesh.

So, forgetting the Hannah Montana thing, Mr. Grant and I talked about some stuff. Then a topic I had been dreading came up. Why do teachers always feel the need to take the role of guidance counselor?

"So, Oliver, I noticed that you don't have many friends. And I noticed this drop in platonic relationships ended after Miley ran off. Did it bug you?" He asked.

Wow, way to be frank, Mr. G. He couldn't even be sly about it. He had to straight out say "I see that you're a loser and harping over your messed up friend who ditched you. I know for a fact it bugs you, but I'm going to ask anyway so you don't feel more awkward than you already are."

Because, yeah, I was totally okay with one of my best friends in the entire world running away without leaving a single note or clue, leaving me to worry endlessly about her wellbeing. Oliver Oken is heartless.

"Kind of, I dunno." I sighed. This is the one subject I refuse to talk about. Of course, you know that I write about it a lot. But talking is different. No one reads this. But with talking, the grape vine is a terrible thing.

"Come on, she was your best friend! You have to be bummed about it!" Mr. Grant insisted, banging his hands on the steering wheel for emphasis.

I hate it when teachers ask you a question when they already know your answer. Why bother asking it if they already know what I'm going to say? Do they find pleasure in forcing me to actually say it?

"Yeah, I guess. I don't like talking about it." I explained, letting out a big, heavy, and totally fake sigh in the hopes that it will make him believe that I am lamenting on the wonderful times Miley and I had together. Trust me, that lamenting has been done. There is not one memory of Miley that has gone unlamented.

The rest of the car ride was silent, other than Miley's voice belting out True Friend.

I hate that song. She told me she wrote it about Lilly and I. If we were such true friends, then why didn't she tell us about her plans to leave town and never come back? Huh? My next action surprised even me. I leaned forward and turned off his car stereo.

"I hate that song." I mumbled. Mr. Grant nodded curtly.

Complete silence.

That what you would hear if you were in the back seat of that car. Not a single word was uttered after that, not even a plea to put a window back up. The only other words that were exchanged were "goodbye" and "thanks for the ride".

When we got to my house, I darted out of the car and straight into my house. I guess I should have seen someone crouching in my bushes, but I was in such a rush to get to my room and write all of this down that I didn't see them.

I came in, threw my bookbag on the ground, and whipped out my journal. I was about to write something when suddenly…

…my stomach rumbled really loudly. I realized that it was probably missing it's afterschool snack. Every day after school, ever since Miley left, I go home and make myself a grilled cheese sandwich. Miley loves grilled cheese, or at least she did when I knew her. It was her all time favorite thing to eat.

So, as I am making my sandwich, my stomach grumbles even louder. I decide that I should probably make two to please it. So there I am, eating my first grilled cheese, when someone knocks on my door.

I can't imagine what would have happened if I hadn't answered that door. Would my life be less confusing than it is right now? Would I have been kept in the dark? I don't know these answers, because I got up and went to the door, still eating my first grilled cheese sandwich.

I had all of these ideas of who it could be. Maybe it was Lilly, come to apologize for not sticking up for me. Maybe it was my dad, coming home from work early (he works really late). Maybe it was one of those guys who walks around with a giant check for a million dollars, here to tell me that I won some contest I didn't know I entered.

It wasn't a single on of those people. In fact, the person it actually was was more suprising than all of them put together. Because when I opened that door, I froze in shock of who was standing there.

Right there, on my doorstep, was Miley, who had run away exactly 367 days ago.

I dropped my sandwich.

She didn't look exactly the same as before, like I had always imagined her to be like in my dreams. In those dreams, she showed up at my doorstep, looking like an angel from heaven, begging for my forgiveness. Then Lilly would walk in and apologize for everything and we'd all be friends again.

But this Miley looked different. Way different.

For one, she obviously hadn't gotten a haircut. Her long hair was in a tangled ponytail that reached down to her waist. Secondly, her face looked different. The features hadn't changed, but they were shifted in a different way.

There were dark circles under her eyes, showing a lack of sleep. Her face was pretty dirty, so I guess she hadn't showered in a while. Her lips were chapped, unlike the old Miley who always had full, glossy lips.

She looked a lot thinner, too. And her clothes were ripped in some places; I suppose being on the run didn't help the condition of her clothing. All she had with her was a full backpack, which I later learned is full of belongings.

And the biggest difference was her eyes. Before she left, her eyes always had this happy glint in them, though I could never understand why. Now they looked stressed, anxious, and suspicious.

"Miley?" I asked, my voice way higher than normal.

"Hey." She said, not bothering to smile. She kept glancing over her shoulder, as if she expected that someone was watching her every move.

"Wh-what?" Was all I could manage. There were so many questions swimming in my head, ones that I needed her to answer for the sake of my sanity.

"I need your help." She whispered, glancing behind herself again.

"Wh—how—but—o-okay." I seemed to be having trouble forming words.

"I need a place to stay, Oliver." She explained. Right when she said my name, something inside of me snapped back into place. It was like the surprise drained out of me and I realized that after all of this waiting, she was back and asking for my help.

This was not a dream, this was not a fantasy, this was real life, with real problems and real issues. Miley was really standing in from of me, and I needed to answer her before she broke down and had a panic attack, an event which her eyes foreshadowed.

"Stay here, with me." I demanded. I don't know why I didn't suggest she went home and stayed with her family. I guess it was because I could tell she didn't want to do that. If she wanted to be with them, she would have gone there first.

She stepped into my house, taking one last glance behind herself before closing the door. Before I knew it, she was hugging me tighter than I can ever remember being hugged. After what seemed like forever, she finally pulled away. She looked around, then spotted my plate and my second grilled cheese, which I hadn't yet touched.

"Oh, you have no idea how much I missed those." She whispered.

Even though I was still hungry (half of my first sandwich was still on the floor), I couldn't help but to think of her first. She was scarily skinny. I grabbed the plate and held it out to her. She grabbed the grilled cheese and scarfed it down immediately.

"When does your mom get home?" She asked. I glanced at the clock, it was about 4:30.

"Around six." I answered.

"Okay, then let me explain this. Can we go to your living room to sit down?" She asked. I nodded and we walked over and sat down. This was when I quickly grabbed this journal and wrote that quick entry.

She very carefully explained that even though she is going to stay at my house, I can't let my parents or anyone else in Malibu know that she is here. I also have to be aware that I can come home any day and find that she has left again.

After her explanation of this, I asked a question that had been bugging me very much.

"Uh, Miles?"

"Yes?" She asked, seeming pleased that I used her old nickname. Though she didn't smile, she just looked somewhat happier.

"What happened to you?" I asked. Her happy mannor immediately disappeared. She looked angry, as if I just suggested that she leave again.

"Oliver, here is a rule for you. While I am staying here, I can ask you questions. You can ask me questions, too, but not any dealing with what has happened in the past year. Not a single one about that will be answered." She growled. Wow, touchy subject.

After that, I took her to my room. She seemed happy to be in a familiar place. She laid down on my bed. For a second I swear I saw her smelling my pillows, but it might have just been my imagination.

I sent her off to the shower, where she is currently at the moment. I can tell she needed one. She didn't smell or anything, but she just looked like she was in need of a warm, relaxing shower.

Where can I hide her? I can't keep her in my room, that would risk my mom or dad finding her. Not the basement, that has so many spiders. Hmm, this is hard. I think the attic in my head (my brain) isn't working right. Gah, I'm terrible at metaphors. It only makes sense, since I'm failing Poetry.

Wait! That's it! I'll keep her in the attic! The entrance to it is in the ceiling of my closet. And it even has one of those little attic rooms where she could hide in if anyone ever went into the attic to get something. This is perfect! And even better, my old bed is up there. The one that I grew out of once I hit puberty. But Miley is much shorter than me, so she could still fit in it. This will work out great!

I just wish I knew what happened to her.

-

**Yay, first chapter. This story, that's right, the whole story, is dedicated to RandomObsessivePhsycoFangirl (sp?), whose PM I have rudely left unanswered. I think. I will respond to you very soon, and I hope you enjoy this story, which is dedicated to you. Plus, you've known about it for a long time.**

**Well, I obviously took a little break from writing. Well, I was still writing. I have tons of stuff written. Right now, I have probably thirty unfinished stories/oneshots sitting in my files, waiting to be completed. I just have no time.**

**So, big warning here, readers. If you are interested in this story, please don't expect quick updates that come weekly or anything. I'll get them up when I have time, which I don't have a lot of.**

**Yeah, so, here's this story. I hope it was slightly funny. I tried really hard.**


	2. I Now Pronounce You Oliver and Lilly

**Hey guys, it's been a while. But, lucky for you, I didn't keep you waiting all this time only for a small, barely substantial chapter. This is a full twelve pages on Word. And I had to make it perfect, since mistakes are like my kryptonite.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own the show, but I have been recently informed that the plot is mine. Muahaha.**

**P. S. Even though there is Loliver mentioned in here (by Oliver's mother, you will see), I want you all to remember that this is a Moliver story, and the Loliver (more like Loliver bashing; sorry Lolivers, no offense intended) is for comedic purposes, it's not alluding to any future event. Just because I read through this and realized that it could be taken in a Loliver direction if I wanted it to. Which I would never want it to.**

**-**

**Thursday, November 12, 2009 at 3:34 PM in my room**

Miley and I talked about Lilly today. Let me show you how the conversation went.

Miley: So, how is Lilly?

Me: How should I know?

Miley: Well, you are her best friend, right?

Me: No, that job has been taken over by Amber and Ashley.

Miley: What? How? Why?

Me: I don't know, it just sort of happened.

Miley: Oh. So are Amber and Ashley nicer now? I mean, they were always mean to us.

Me: No, they're the same. Actually, I think they're a little worse.

Miley: No. Lilly wouldn't let that happen. Lilly would stand up for you. Lilly wouldn't join the popular group. Lilly is the skaterish, tomboy that we both know and love!

Me: (in a really mean tone) Not anymore.

Thinking back, I guess I could have been a bit nicer about it. I mean, Miley has been through something bad. I don't know what it is, but it's really bad. So she's probably pining for some kindness and caring.

Well, Miley got all mad and retreated back to the attic. It's almost as if she expected that she would come back and everything would be exactly the same. That's a naïve dream right there.

**Thursday, November 12, 2009 at 4:46 PM in my room**

I just cut Miley.

It was really weird too. I really wasn't expecting her to ask me to do it, since I'm a guy and everything, especially since it seems like a really girly thing to do. I—

Whoa, hold on. I meant I just cut Miley's _hair_. I didn't cut her skin or anything. I got distracted for a second. Wow, you probably thought I had gone demented for a moment. Kids, though I have no idea why a kid would be reading my private journal, don't cut people. It's bad.

And you probably thought I was saying cutting people was girly. It's definitely not. I mean, girls can cut people if they want, but its not really described as girly. You know? Like when I say girly, you think of make up and shopping and crushing on boys, not cutting people.

Wow, I have issues.

Back on topic, I just cut Miley's hair.

I know that seems like a sort of stupid thing to be writing about. I mean, my best friend returns from being gone for an entire year and all I can write about is cutting her hair (and cutting people)? What is wrong with me?

Anyway, I had snuck her up some food and she was just sitting there, brushing her long hair. With her hair down, it went down past her butt. Wow, I feel uncomfortable using "butt" in a sentence involving Miley. I feel so…disrespectful. You know?

Butt. Butt. Butt butt butt. Miley has a butt. Her hair touches her butt. Her pants cover her butt. When Miley is tired after a long day, she sits down on her _butt_. Butt. If Miley was a cat, she'd have a tail on her butt. Butt.

…I can't believe I just wrote that.

But (haha, no pun intended) do you see how disrespectful it sounds? I would never actually say those things about Miley. Though most of them are true. Actually, I think all of them are true. At least I hope they are…that sounds so much wronger than I wanted it to.

Reading through that, I realize the fact that I seriously have problems. I go from talking about cutting Miley's hair to ranting about her butt. Seriously? You know what, I'm crossing that whole butt part out. If you have a brain, journal, erase it from your memory.

Because I once saw this Harry Potter movie where he wrote in some diary, and it started talking to him and showing him its memories. If you ever become a magical journal, I do not want you showing people my butt rants.

Well, back on topic. Miley was just sitting there, brushing her long hair. With her hair down, it went past her…bottom area that happens to be below her stomach and above her thighs. When she noticed me standing there, she stopped and beckoned me over.

Then she pulled out a pair of scissors (actually she grabbed them from my desk) and was all, "Cut it, Oliver."

And I was all, "I don't know how."

And then she was all, "Just do it anyway."

So I, carefully, cut off like an entire thirteen inches of hair. It looks choppy and uneven now, but at least it only goes down to the middle of her back. The rugged haircut makes her look like an outlaw/girl who was raised by wolves in the wilderness of Alaska. One of those two.

Still, somehow it doesn't look bad. Miley grimaced when she saw it, but I can't see why. I mean, it's not the perfect haircut. But her hair is still shiny and her face is still really pretty, so it distracts you from the hair. Actually, I think it's what distracted when I first started this entry.

Uh…that doesn't sound weird, right? I mean, I'm saying this in a total best friend way. Best friends are allowed to think that their best friends have shiny hair and have really pretty faces that tend to distract them from what they're doing.

So, er, yeah. Cutting Miley's hair. With scissors. Sharp scissors. I'm pretty sure you could cut through steel with those babies. But I cut through her hair instead. It was one of the weirdest experiences I've ever had with Miley.

But you know what they say. "What is weird can only get weirder." Okay, so maybe they don't say that. But it's true. And pretty deep. Yeah, that's right, I can say deep statements that leave you to ponder effortlessly for hours.

I want to see some serious pondering out of you, journal.

Do it!

Oh, and in the possibility of you becoming a magic journal, please tell the wizard who writes about you that I was an amazing and deep boy who totally did not go off on random rants about butts and cutting people.

**Thursday, November 12, 2009 at 5:13 PM in my room**

This is my third entry of the day. It's just so weird, having Miley back, I mean. I just can't stop staring at her. I'm always expecting that she's just going to vanish in midair and I'll realize it was just a dream.

Plus, she looks really pretty all of the sudden. I mean, she looks the same. And she's always been pretty. But recently she's just looked extra pretty to me. It's freaking me out. One day she's just Miley, my best friend who is on the run from some unknown thing, and the next she's Miley, my really pretty best friend who is on the run from some unknown thing.

I don't like it. I'm supposed to acknowledge the fact that she's pretty, then not care about that fact day in and day out. But when she suddenly looks extra pretty, I can't ignore it. It's like her face is saying "Look at me Oliver, I'm pretty" and I just have to obey.

It's freaking me out. A lot. I don't know what triggered this. I'm still trying to figure it out. Maybe it's because I haven't seen her in a really long time and I forgot how pretty she was. You know, it's like an aftershock. I subconsiously realized it when I first saw her, but it's only hit me now.

I don't think she's noticed, though. She just keeps circling my room, looking at all of my stuff and smiling. I can tell that she missed being in a familiar place. And if she has noticed my staring…then she sure knows how to avoid an awkward situation.

Anyway, my mom almost caught her being here.

Just seven minutes ago we (Miley and I) finished going through a bunch of photo albums of me, her, and Lilly. We were laughing really hard (well, I was laughing, Miley doesn't laugh) at all of the old memories. For a little while, it felt like everything was back to normal. For a split second I even thought that Miley was going to tell me that she had to be home in time for dinner or something like that.

But I was quickly brought back to reality when my mom began pounding on my bedroom door, demanding to know who I was in there with. Miley didn't even have time to get into the attic, she just had to hide in my closet.

When I opened the door, my mom looked like a crazy maniac, her eyes searching my room and her handcuffs held high.

"Who is in here with you?" She asked in a low voice, which she calls her "man voice".

"No one."

.

"I heard laughing." She said. Before I could stop her, she burst into my room and began inspecting it. I was just left standing there, watching her search for any sign of another person. After a minute or so, she approached me with a few incriminating items.

The first was the photo album, still open to the page it was on. On that page was a picture from our school camping trip in eighth grade, the one of Miley standing on a rock after getting back at Amber and Ashley. Below that picture was a picture of Miley and I hugging and dressed as Romeo and Juliet, due to an eighth grade assignment we had.

The second piece of evidence was Miley's hairbrush, which had been laying out on my dresser. It had a bunch of Miley's hair in it.

And the third and most obvious hint was Miley's pair of pink sneakers, the very sneakers she had been wearing when she first showed up at my house. They had apparently been sitting on my floor.

"Care to explain, Oliver?" My mom asked, sounding very angry and suspicious.

"Um, sure. You see, three days ago was the anniversary of when Miley left. So, since I missed her so much, I decided to…make a shrine." I lied.

And, no freaking joke, my mom actually bought it. She closed her eyes and let out a disappointed sigh. I think she sort of wishes she _did _find a girl in here with me and was sad to find out that not only was I alone, but I was also doing something as pathetic as making a shrine. Poor mom.

"Fine. Your father and I are going out tonight, so don't trash the house. Oh, and I'll have none of this shrine business. It's unhealthy." She demanded disapprovingly. Twenty bucks says she's remembering back in my Hannah obsession days when I had a shrine built in the back of my closet.

After my mom walked out, I could hear Miley moving in my closet. I quickly opened it and looked inside. Even though I had heard her moments before, she was nowhere in sight. I thought about the possibility of her being in the attic, but opening that attic door causes a loud squeak that I would have heard.

Suddenly she jumped out of a pile of clothing she was under, which scared me half to death and caused me to scream in a very girlish way. Which, in turn, caused her to raise her eyebrows in a way that looked like she was internally laughing at me.

Because Miley never actually laughs. She doesn't even smile. When she's happy, she looks like she's smiling, except her mouth isn't. It's like everything smiles _but _her mouth. Like Mona Lisa. Like my own personal Mona Lisa.

Still, I miss her smile. The one where she'd grin from ear to ear and look sincerely happy. I wish I knew how to make her smile like that now. I'd do anything to see her smiling like that again. To see the constant worry that's always lingering in her eyes disappear.

Anyway, Miley was internally laughing at me and I was attempting to recover from the shock of her jumping out at me.

"A shrine, Oliver? Seriously? I can't believe your mom fell for that." She said. The way she said it made it seem like the thought of me have a shrine of her entertained her. In her dreams.

"It's the first thing I could think of. Anyway, you should get into the attic before my mom comes back up." I suggested. Miley nodded and went up.

Have I mentioned how good it is to have her back?

**Thursday, November 12, 2009 at 7:23 PM in my room**

Ok, so remember how I said that if Miley knew I was staring at her, then she was doing really well at avoiding an awkward conversation? It was like two entries ago. Well, I wrote it, and since I wrote it on you, you should know.

Well, I now know she just hadn't noticed. Because that awkward conversation I thought she was avoiding, yeah, it just happened. And I couldn't have sounded like a bigger idiot/freak.

Okay, so here's how it went down.

Miley: Oliver, are you staring at me?

Me: Uh, maybe.

Miley: Can I ask why?

Me: Because your face is freaking me out!

And not only did I say it, I kind of screamed it at her. Like really loud. Luckily, my mom and dad somehow didn't notice. I don't know why I screamed it, it just kind of struck me that she might think that I was thinking that she was pretty or something, and I didn't want her to think that I was thinking about that stuff, when really I kind of was.

I mean, in truth, her face was freaking me out. But you know that's only because her face has randomly started looking extra pretty, and that is really freaky since she's my best friend. I'm pretty sure she hasn't noticed me looking extra pretty recently.

Well, after I screamed that at Miley, she just gave me this weird face that looked kind of disappointed, then she just went back up into the attic. Seriously, she retreats into the attic so much now. It's like every time something happens, she goes up there.

Oh well. Maybe she likes solitude. Maybe she likes being hidden away from the world, without anyone to interrupt her complex thoughts. Maybe I'm just trying very hard to sound like a deep and understanding guy when really I'm kind of not.

**Friday, November 14, 2009 at 3:27 AM in my room**

I could kill Miley right now.

Not really. I could never kill Miley. Even if she murdered my whole family and had a knife at my throat, I still could never kill her. Even if she had a nuclear bomb and was going to blow up the whole entire world, I wouldn't be able to kill her. I hope the same goes for her.

Anyway, here I was enjoying a nice sleep. I was even having a kickass dream. Lilly was my friend again, Miley had never ran away and wasn't hiding a big secret (well, not counting Hannah Montana), and her family liked me again. Everything was going great. And the best part was that Miley was smiling her smile. Her real smile that I've been missing.

That is, until I felt someone poking my arm. But before I knew it, I was being shaken awake by the real, secretive, fugitive Miley. And she looked scared.

Let me say this. Over the whole like few days Miley has been here, she never showed that much emotion. I mean, when she was happy she didn't laugh or smile. When she was angry, she just glared. When she was sad, her eyes would be watery.

So I guess this was the most emotional I've ever seen Miley. She looked scared to death, as if someone had just held a gun to her head. She was shaking and hyperventilating, not to mention the fact that she was actually crying.

"Miley, what happened?" I asked. I sat up, which she took as an invitation to sit on my bed. She sat next to me and I put an arm around her, causing her to flinch a bit.

"I had a nightmare." She whispered. She looked around my room, even though it was pretty dark, as if she was making sure the bogeyman wasn't going to jump out and eat us. Or wipe his boogers on us or anything.

Because when I was little, everyone always told me the bogeyman ate you, but I always imagined him as some creepy guy in a sheet picking his nose and flicking his boogers at me. But there was no cannibalism going on. But, back on topic.

"What was it about?" I asked.

"M—the reason I left." She answered. My heart started pounding ten million times faster. I honestly believed she was actually going to tell me what happened to her. I had been forgetting what she said back in my living room about how she wasn't going to tell me.

"And what was that?" I whispered. She never answered. She just put her arms around me, hugged me for like ten minutes, then got up and went back into the attic. I swear, that girl is confusing sometimes.

Anywho, now I can't sleep. I counted 157 sheep before I gave up and wrote in you. I need to give you a name. I've had you for how long now? Five months. I checked back to my first entry, which is just me venting about how my life sucks and I'm pathetic for buying a diary. I mean journal.

Five months and I haven't named you. Hmm, that is a matter which shall be solved at a later date. Why? Because right now I need to go to sleep instead of thinking of names. Oh, wait, I can't sleep because Miley freaking woke me up!

Well, I shouldn't be mad at her about it. What happened to her was obviously really scary and if she had a nightmare about it then it is my duty as the only person who she trusts that knows she is back to console her. I'm pretty sure that was a runon sentence. And a confusing one at that. Actually, I had to read it like ten times after I wrote it to understand what I meant to write.

Gahh, what is it with me and confusing sentences?

I just yawned! ZOMG I CAN GO TO BED! WHY AM I WRITING IN ALL CAPS? I sound like one of those crazy fangirls. "ZOMG the Jonas Brothers are coming here! I have OJD and I'm going to totally ROFL when I see them because Joe is sooo funny. Rotflmao!"

You know, I never understood the whole "zomg" thing. I guess I could search the web and find out, but I really don't feel like it. I always imagined that it had somgthing to do with zombies, because of the whole _zom_g and _zom_bie thing. Maybe "zom" is short for undead or supernatural or something.

Like that alien kid in that one TV show. His name is Zom, right? Or is it Zim? Well, it's close enough to zom. And I'm pretty sure he's supernatural. Well, I only saw one episode of his show, and he was like afraid of germs so he put on these glasses or something that let him see germs and they looked like this giant mass of green and then he flipped out. Runon sentence, but that was the basis of the episode plot. I think.

That was weird. Well my yawn means that I can go to bed because I am tired. Hey, did you hear that yawning is contagious? Mr. Grant said that they proved it and everything. I think it's true. I bet you right before I yawned, Miley was yawning in the attic.

This entry is too long. Goodnight.

**Friday, November 14, 2009 at 3:35 AM in my room**

God, why can't I just sleep?

**Friday, November 14, 2009 at 3:37 AM in my room**

Cue Jeopardy theme song. Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo doo doo.

Crap. For the second time this week, music cannot be typed into a computer.

Oh well, you know the tune. And if you don't, then you live in a steel box in a hole in a cave in the barren tundra of Siberia. Everyone knows Jeopardy.

**Friday, November 14, 2009 at 3:40 AM in my room**

I should go wake up Miley. It's her fault that I'm awake in the first place.

I won't, though. I'm a wonderful friend.

**Monday, November 17, 2009 at 4:23 PM in my kitchen**

Miley and I have the house to ourselves. Well, technically I have the house to myself. Miley is a fugitive who is staying here without my parents knowing it, so it would be weird if they had said "Oliver, you and Miley, if she just so happens to be hiding out in our attic, have the house to yourselves."

Well, thank God for PTA meetings. It's really awkward, because this one is at Lilly's house. You see, Lilly's mom and my mom always got along fabulously. They were great friends. When Lilly turned to the Dark Side, at first our parents didn't know.

That is, until she, Amber, and Ashley got sent to the principal's office for calling me an emo, faggish, unfantabulous, sweaty, ugly retard. I got in trouble too for calling them condescending bitches (more to Amber and Ashley than to Lilly).

Well, then Lilly and I were forced to explain to our mothers that we were no longer friends and hated each other with a fiery passion. That's only half true. I hate the new Lilly. I don't hate the old Lilly. Though I could have done without a lot of the old Lilly's teasing and mockery, I didn't hate her. She was one of my best friends.

Anyway (gosh, I say "anyway" and "well" too often), after that our parents stopped talking. I remember one time my mom took me to the mall to get me some jeans and we ran into Lilly's mom. This was the basic conversation:

Mom: Heather.

Mrs. T: Nancy.

Mom: …how are things?

Mrs. T: Things are fine…how are things with you?

Mom: Good, good.

Mrs. T: …

Mom: …What was that Ollie?

Me: I didn't say anything.

Mom: Yes you did, you just said that you have to go to the bathroom. Well, we don't want you to have an accident. Let's get you to a restroom.

And then my mom dragged me away and started this rant about how what was going on between me and Lilly was stupid and trivial and how we should just start hanging out again before it was too late and I would lose my chance with her. I just kept silent.

This was coming from the same woman, might I add, who told me that Lilly and I were going to get married. _When I was five_. Yeah, she told five-year-old Oliver that one day Lilly and I were going to grow up and have kids.

I screamed. When I was five, not when we ran into Mrs. T at the mall. Very loud, too. Which caused the whole population of the grocery store parking lot to stop and listen to me scream "But I don't wanna marry Lilly! She's mean and icky and she put gum in my ear!"

And then my mom kind of threw me in the car and we drove away very fast. Now, to this day, she thinks Lilly and I have something special. Which is really…gross. I mean, even with the old Lilly, she's so mean and argumental and like a sister. I'd feel like I was dating my sister, and incest is not cool.

Which pisses my mom off. For some demented reason, she thinks Lilly and I are soul mates. I think she might be on drugs. Or have a brain tumor. Or suffer from dementia. Or be possessed by the devil. Or be drunk. One of those…five.

Honestly, if I had to pick one of my two best friends to date, I'd most definitely pick Miley. I mean, unlike Lilly, she's really pretty. And funny. And—nevermind. It'd be weird if I listed those things. Miley and I are _just_ best friends, after all. Though, if I had to choose, she'd be my choice, no doubt about it.

I'm ending this discussion…with myself. It's too weird.

Wow, I am really off topic. What I was trying to say is that Miley and I have the house to ourselves for the next three hours. After that she has to go back into the attic and I have to sit through an hour long speech from my mother about why Lilly and I should become friends again.

Don't you just hate mothers?

**Monday, November 17, 2009 at 8:01 PM in my room**

My alone time with Miley was awesome. We watched TV for a little bit, but that wasn't that great because I had to explain what she missed in the world of TV over the past year. That itself took up like an hour.

Then we talked and talked for what seemed like forever. But it wasn't boring, like it gets with some people. It was actually the best conversation I've had in a really long time. And the best part is that I don't remember what we talked about. It was all totally random, yet fun stuff.

I do remember that we talked about pickle juice for like ten whole minutes. For some reason the two of us found it very interesting. I remember this topic because we had to go check the pickle jar in my refridgerator to find out what the juice was made of.

After that, we made grilled cheese and I filled her in on the gossip from school. Well, the very little that I knew. I'm not like Lilly, who knows everything and anything about anyone. I just knew things like Lilly and Johnny dated, then broke up because Lilly got bored with the relationship. Little dumb things that Miley would want to know.

Then we talked about school, and I explained the stuff about our classes and teachers, like how Mr. Grant is now our Geometry teacher. After a while Miley insisted that she did not want to hear another single thing about school.

Then it was time for her to go back upstairs and a few minutes later my parents came home. Mumsy (What the heck? Where did I get Mumsy from?) was fuming and explained that Lilly had two "airheaded giggly girls" over and they were the most annoying people she's ever met.

I am very proud of the fact that my mom dislikes Amber and Ashley.

But, like always, she never fails to disappoint. Right after she finished bagging on the double A's, she jumped right into the Lilly speech.

She went on and on not only about how amazing of friends Lilly and I were, but also about how amazing of a couple we would be. I wanted to puke. Like, no joke, I could feel the vomit rising in my throat.

Not to be mean to Lilly, or anything. I mean, I _guess_ she's pretty, maybe. Ew, ew, ew. That's just so gross. Imagining Lilly as pretty. I mean, to other guys she most likely is. But I just can't see that. And it's not just because she donated her brain to the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz and is now under the influence of the wicked witches of the East and West.

I'm vowing it right here, journal-thing. I will never ever, in all my years ahead of me, see Lilly in any romantic way and/or date her. She will always be Lilly to me. Never ever will I consider her in any other way.

I might as well do the same for Miley, since we'll always be best friends too. I will never ever—no. Miley and I will never—no. I'll never see Miley in a way that could be roma—no. Okay, I got it. Miley will always be Miley to me, no matter what.

That sounds good, right?

…oh, right. You can't answer, journal-thing that is soon to be named. Well, I think I'm going to go hang out with Miley in my room. I'll write in you later.

-

**So, what'd you think? Eh? Did it sound too much like a Loliver? I don't know, I didn't like it. But of the many ways the chapter could go, I like this one best. Which means I really hated the other ways. Oh, well.**

**And, special thingy here, if you noticed in this chapter, Oliver mentioned his journal needing a name. Well, guess who gets to make it up? Not me. Yeah, that's right. I want you, who will hopefully review this, to think of a name for it. But there are two requirements.**

**1. It must be a male name, since I can't imagine Oliver spilling out his emotions to a girly diary.**

**2. It must be something Oliver would name a journal. He obviously wouldn't go with Mr. Pookie Bear, so don't suggest it.**

**Ok, that's it. I don't know when the next chapter is going to be up. Sorry. But I will PM the winner of the name thing.**


	3. Oliver Jones, Private Investigator

**Hey, guys. It has been waaaaay too long. But, sadly, my life has been seeming like a soap opera recently, so I haven't really had time to write. But I didn't cheat you guys. This chapter is 16 pages long in Microsoft Word. So, yeah, it's pretty lengthy. And it had been rewritten so many times that I can't really count.**

**But, congratulations to snickers3339, who thought of the chosen name for Oliver's journal. It's name is officially Oscar, which will be said in the chapter as well. Though it's been so long, I doubt she even remembers suggesting the name. I know I wouldn't. :P**

**Disclaimer: Yes. I own Hannah Montana. I also own Vermont, Robert Pattinson, and the Ben & Jerry's ice cream franchise. I know, I'm pretty lucky. (sarcasm, though I hope you picked up on that :P)**

**-**

**Tuesday, November 18, 2009 at 6:27 PM in my room**

Today was possibly one of the most awkward days of my life. Today is the one-year anniversary of the day Miley was declared legally missing. As you know, when it was the anniversary of the day she ran away, I was in a bad mood for quite some time.

Since Miley is back and I talk to her every day, I wasn't really sad today. Neither was she, mostly because she didn't know what today was until like twenty minutes ago when I told her.

Anyway, everyone else was bummed. I guess they were this bummed last week on the other anniversary day, but I didn't really notice it since I was bummed too. But now that I'm not, it seems like someone just sprinkled sadness over everyone's cereal this morning.

And then everyone thought I was out of my mind because I wasn't miserable. Lilly didn't send me another one of her sympathetic texts, though she did give me this weird head twitch in the hallway that I think was some deranged salutation.

The worst part, though, was when Jackson tried to console me of pain I wasn't feeling. He stopped me in the hallway and said, "Hey, man. We're all hurting today. The past week has been brutal for me. I barely slept. I know you're going through the same thing, and, well, I just want you to know that we need to be here for each other." I just nodded and walked away. I didn't really know what to say to that. Should I have acted sad?

When I told Miley about this, her eyes got all teary and she went into the attic. That's where she is now. I'm pretty sure she's crying. Maybe I should go console her or something. That's something a best friend should do, right?

**Tuesday, November 18, 2009 at 7:03 PM in my room**

I just realized that until this afternoon, I've never been in the attic with Miley. When I came up, it was pitch black. I pulled the string on the light bulb, which is the only form of light in the whole attic.

To my surprise, it looked exactly the same. The bed was less dusty on account of the fact that someone had been sleeping on it. But really, all of the random chairs and boxes of family photos were untouched. In fact, I didn't see a single belonging of Miley's.

For a second, I thought that she had left. Then I heard a small sob come from the room off to the side. At first I was convinced it was a monster, but then I realized that it was most likely Miley. I went over and opened the door. There was Miley, her face tearstained.

I found out where her stuff was. It was spread out in that small room. I didn't know this, but apparently that room has an electrical socket. Plugged into it was an old lamp and the fan my dad bought when we lost power for three days straight after a bad thunderstorm.

Her clothes were folded in a neat pile in the corner. I didn't know until then the small amount of clothing she had. There were only three shirts and two pairs of pants. She also had one shirt she was wearing and the shorts she had on. Other than that, she only had a light blue hoodie.

The rest of her stuff was probably in her bag, which was an over the shoulder sort of backpack. I was rendered speechless by the way she kept the room, though. It looked like in her spare time she had cleaned it completely.

"Why are you up here?" She asked, bringing me back to earth.

"You're sad." I said. Okay, so I'm not the best at comforting people. But at least I my consoling efforts weren't as much as an epic fail as they were when I tried to comfort my mom when she had gone through her midlife crisis and become convinced she was too old to function. She had bought a motorcycle, then realized she needed a motorcycle license to drive it.

"Admit, it, Olliebaby (my mom's childhood nickname for me), I'm so old I could have sat next to Jesus in first grade." She cried as she collapsed on the couch. Did I mention that during this phase she also looked up Yo Mamma jokes and used them to describe herself?

"No, mom, you couldn't have sat next to Jesus in the first grade." I said. She smiled a little, and if I had stopped there it would have been fine. But I went on to say, "I'm pretty sure they didn't have elementary school back then. Plus, wasn't Jesus a saint baby whose touch cured diseases? I mean, if you did sit next to him in first grade, you wouldn't have that rash that always shows up on your legs."

Yeah, that pretty much has epic fail written all over it. My mom didn't talk to me for a week. And now, when she's sad, she avoids me like I'm a plague or something. Oh, but back to what happened in the attic.

"Yeah, I am." Miley agreed. She wiped her tears away.

"Why?" I asked. I was forgetting that I had just spoken of her brother to her.

"I—I…Jackson was…I just miss them. My family, I mean." She whispered. She looked down at her fingernails and began picking at them, a nervous habit she must have picked up over the past year.

"Well, you know, we could always tell them that you're back." I suggested.

"No." She said firmly. I don't understand why she won't tell them. They obviously miss her and are still hurting. Why not just put them out of their pain? I know that I would feel bad if I found out that Miley was back and no one had told me.

"Why is all of your stuff in here?" I asked. I knew I had to change the subject soon, otherwise she would have kicked me out. And that would have resulted in her avoidance of me for the next few hours. And I hate it when she avoids me.

"Oh, well if one of your parents comes up here for any reason at all, I didn't want them to come up and see my stuff everywhere. That'd be a dead giveaway that someone was living up here. So it's all in here." She explained.

Miley has gotten very good at planning ahead. She can predict any possible bad outcome and how to prevent it. I guess being on the run and everything has taught her that. I wonder what else it taught her.

After that, I went back into my bedroom and Miley came down with me. She's sitting across from me right now, breezing through an old gossip magazine I kept because of an article on Hannah Montana in it.

Hold on, she's saying something.

**Tuesday, November 18, 2009 at 7:32 PM in my room**

Picking up where I left off.

"Oliver." Miley said, looking at me from above the magazine. I stopped writing and looked up at her.

"Yeah?"

"Right here, on page 135, it says—"

"Hannah Montana's manager has finally come out to explain the reason for Hannah Montana's long absence from the media." I interrupted her, saying the exact first sentence in the article.

"Yeah, how did you know that?" She asked suspiciously. I sighed.

"In a letter to the Teen Scene staff, Montana's manager explains that she will be taking a three year leave from the spotlight and spending it in the remote Alps. None was said on the reasons for this trip. 'She's taking some time off,' her manager says, 'She apologizes to her fans for her absence and sends her love.' Fans across the country will be saddened by this news." I recited.

"What happened after this article came out?" Miley asked shakily.

"Well, your fans sent you so much fan mail begging you to stay that you would get about eight bags of mail a day. For like a month the media went crazy trying to find a reason for your supposed trip. And the magazine you are holding right now, the December issue of Teen Scene, sold over a million copies." I explained.

"Well they sure know how to make a girl feel guilty." Miley sighed, dropping the magazine on the ground. I decided to try to get some information out of her for like the sixtieth time.

"Why did you run away? There must have been some other option." I said. Miley groaned, most likely in annoyance in another one of my questions that she had already said she wouldn't answer. She stayed silent for a few seconds.

"Leaving was the only option." She whispered. Then she went back up into the attic, leaving me alone here. In the ten minutes that followed, I came to a big decision. It has to be done, and I'm the only one who can do it.

I am vowing to do this right here and right now. Under every circumstance, every danger, every curveball sent my way, I swear that I will find out what happened to Miley. I will not quit, even if my life gets put on the line.

**Wednesday, November 19, 2009 at 8:29 PM on the bus**

Bad handwriting is the fault of the bus ride.

I'm sitting in the back today, so Amber and Ashley can't harass me from behind. Anyway, I thought about it all night and I've gotten a few leads on the whole Miley case. I feel like a detective. Oliver Oken, Private Investigator. It sounds cool, huh?

Anyway, I can't believe Lilly and I didn't think of this when we were researching that first month Miley left. I mean, it's such an obvious thing. I should probably get to telling you what it is now.

I am going to make a list of every big thing that happened within a month of when Miley left. I'll take each of those things as a lead and research it. After all, only one of them can be true. Okay, so here's what I thought of:

-Halloween and Thanksgiving

-Derrick moved to our school.

-Miley's dad broke up with his girlfriend.

-Jackson failed a class.

-Hannah Montana got a bad review from a big critic.

So those are my five leads. I feel like I might be forgetting something, but I'll probably think of it later. If I think of anymore, I'll write them down. I think I can rule out Halloween and Thanksgiving because Lilly and I were with Miley for all of Halloween and she was gone before Thanksgiving.

My next lead is Derrick. He's a very suspicious guy. And he always did seem to have a thing for Miley. Plus, he gets in trouble almost every day, so he's used to doing bad stuff. Derrick needs investigating.

**Wednesday, November 19, 2009 at 9:10 PM in homeroom**

Something quite interesting happened on the bus today. I met a girl. A nice girl. And I befriended her. Haha, I just love that word. Befriend. I bet it came from the cavemen, back before they used complete sentences. If they wanted to start a friendship, they'd just walk up to a person and say, "Be friend?". After the language developed a little, they probably just made it one word.

I bet you didn't know that Oliver Oken is a master of etymology. I bet you didn't know that Oliver Oken knows what etymology is. I bet you didn't know that Oliver Oken knows how to get way off topic all the time. I bet you didn't know that Oliver Oken is going to smoothly segue back into his previous rambling.

Yeah, so I'm friends with a nice girl. Yeah, I actually have a friend at this school now. Wow, that sounds so loserish. But, you know, it is true that she's kind of my only friend at this school. It all started about five minutes after I wrote my last entry.

Amber, Ashley, and Lilly all crammed into the seat in front of me. Amber and Ashley were taunting me, like always.

"What are you writing, Ollie-boar? A romance novel? Is it about you and Candee falling in love? I heard she tried to seduce you last week. You should have given in. She's the only girl you'll ever get." Amber sneered.

"Yeah, everyone else knows how much of a freak you are." Ashley agreed. Lilly, like always, just sat there and examined her perfectly manicured fingers.

"Will you guys just leave me alone for once?" I asked angrily. I looked up. The bus driver was watching me in his mirror. I guess he hadn't forgotten about what happened last week. I seriously hope we get a new bus driver next year.

"Ooh, sounds like Ollie-boar is getting angry. You better watch it, or else you'll send another girl packing." Amber laughed. She expected that the comment would once again send me over the edge. But unlike last time, I am no longer so easily upset with the subject of Miley.

"Yeah, hopefully you." I shot back. I surprised even myself. I don't think there's ever been a time other than that where I actually stood up for myself against them. And the fact that it was a good comeback was surprising, too.

"Wow, Ollie-boar actually thought of a comeback. It's a shame you used such a lame one. Maybe next time you should take the time to think of a good comeback instead of writing in that girly diary of yours." Ashley scoffed. Liar. That comeback was awesome.

"It's not a diary." I muttered. To my horror, Amber swooped down and grabbed you right out of my lap. She opened you up to a random page in the beginning. It's actually pretty lucky that she did that. If she had read any of my recent entries, both Miley and I would be exposed.

"Let's see. 'January 24, 2009 at 2:34 PM on the bus. I miss Miley. She was such a good friend and I know for a fact she wouldn't betray me like Lilly did.' Well, if you ask me, that sounds a lot like a diary." Amber sighed. She threw the book back to me.

"Ooh, and it sounds like he was dissing you Lilly. It's a good thing you did betray him, otherwise he would have been whining about Miley to you instead of this book." Ashley snickered, turning to Lilly. Lilly's head shot up and her eyes widened.

"Uh, well, yeah. I wouldn't like that. Ollie-b-b-boar is so annoying." She said sheepishly, keeping her eyes on her nails. It was surprising how much Lilly sounded like she didn't want to insult me.

"Thanks." I whispered sarcastically. I think she heard me, because she turned around and faced forward in the bus seat.

"Ehmagawd, I think you actually hurt his feelings Lil. Total kudos. Anywho, Ollie-boar, it seems like you have no one now. Just that silly diary and the memory of a bitch who ran away from you." Amber sighed.

"Don't call her a bitch." I demanded. I still had a problem with them insulting Miley like that. She's not a bitch. I will admit that back in the day, she did have her moments when she would seem like it, but I never saw them as bitchy. I saw them as Miley. Miley wouldn't be Miley without those moments.

"Who, Miley? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult. It's just that she totally earned the title Her Royal Bitchiness." Amber snickered.

"Stop insulting her like that!" I demanded again, making sure not to raise my voice, like Hilary Duff did. Haha, did you get the joke? Eh, it wasn't that good. But I laughed.

"Ooh, looks like we found Señor Ugly's sore spot. He doesn't like it when we insult the winner of the Whore of the Year award." Ashley ridiculed me. They were really making me angry. But I knew I wouldn't lose my cool. Not like last time.

"Leave him alone!" A girl in the seat next to me yelled, standing up. I didn't recognize her from anywhere, but she was kind of pretty. She had curly brown hair going down about three inches below her shoulders. She was pretty skinny, but she looked like she was slightly athletic. And her face seemed nice, even though it was currently in a scowl.

"Hey, sit down!" The bus driver yelled. The girl obliged.

"Who are you?" Amber asked with distaste.

"I'm Emma and I'm new here. And I've been sitting here the whole bus ride while you three just torment him. Give him a freaking break!" She said with more confidence. Confidence that reminded me a lot of Miley before she left. Confidence I've been missing.

"Well, Emma, I don't know what is up with you, but you better stay away from Ollie-boar, here. Being friends with him is practically social suicide." Ashley warned. Emma glared at her, stood up, and sat next to me in my seat.

"Well then you better put me on suicide watch." She smiled smugly. Amber and Ashley shared a look of dislike and dragged Lilly away with them back to the middle of the bus. The girl looked surprised her plan had actually succeeded.

"Thanks." I muttered.

"Oh, you're welcome." She said quietly. Apparently that confidence left with Amber and Ashley.

We talked for the rest of the bus ride. She moved here from Pennsylvania because her dad got transferred here. She likes shopping, cheerleading, and making new friends. She seems nice, and she sure likes to talk.

Emma's in my homeroom, which is kind of cool. She showed me her schedule and she is in five of my classes. I just feel bad for her because she doesn't get Mr. Grant and instead has Ms. Finkleberry as her Geometry teacher.

It feels good to have a friend who isn't hiding in my closet.

**Wednesday, November 19, 2009 at 12:23 PM in the cafeteria**

Okay, after spending a lot of time with her, I've realized that having Emma as my friend isn't as great as I originally thought it would be. I'll admit, she's great. Actually, she's _too _great. And she most definitely doesn't resemble my old friends.

In fact, I found her personality slightly annoying. She's just so…perky. She'd be a perfect cheerleader. She always has a positive outlook on everything, she is perfect at almost everything, and she's too nice. I almost asked her to grab my shirt and pull me close to her and threaten me. But I didn't.

I guess she's just too perfect. She can sing, she's apparently won like a gazillion dance trophies, she got perfect grades back in Pennsylvania, she never does anything embarrassing, and she can act.

I guess she and the old Miley have their confidence in common. Emma isn't afraid to say what she wants when she wants to, just like Miley. Only unlike Miley, Emma never has anything bad to say.

The only time she says something bad is when she's sticking up for a friend. And, what do you know, I'm her only friend. But I like that about her, how she'll go to any length for a friend. Even one that she's only known me for a few hours.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Emma loves to _talk_. Talking to her isn't like talking to Miley or Lilly ever was. Emma talks like perky person would. She says about a thousand words a minute, each about something totally happy.

Let me explain something. I am not that happy. I mean, of course I'm happy that Miley is back. But I'm also not happy, because there's something seriously wrong with her. Plus, my life at school sucks. Emma is too happy. She's never sad, or angry, or anything. It's kind of annoying.

She's sitting across from me right now. She might be too perfect, but at least she's someone. She's eating a tofu burger. Oh, I forgot to mention that she's a vegetarian. Either she'll end up a cheerleader or Sarah's best friend. I'm not sure which. Maybe she'll stay friends with me.

Even though she kind of annoys me, I'm going to stay friends with her. Someone is better than no one. She'll have to do for now.

**Wednesday, November 19, 2009 at 1:40 PM in History**

I figured out a way to get more information on Derrick.

I'm going to get a detention. Then I'll initiate conversation. Then when he gets comfortable around me, I'll start interrogation. It'll work because Derrick is an outsider, just like me. He has no friends to unimpress by being around me.

**Wednesday, November 19, 2009 at 1:47 PM in History**

I got it!

No, not the suspect thing. I thought of a name for you. It's a pretty awesome name, trust me. I use it all the time for myself. Wait, that's confusing. Okay, well let me explain this to you.

Since I confess everything to you, I like to think of you as a part of me. Therefore, I thought I would name you with a part of me. But I can't really name you "Oliver", because that would get confusing.

So your name officially is…Oscar.

Yeah. It's my middle name, and your first name. You don't have a last name, unless you really wanted one. But I wouldn't know that, so that sucks for you.

But, on the bright side, you get to also be named after an amazing award ceremony! I watched the Oscars this year. Well, I watched the beginning. But then they started singing and dancing, and I turned it off.

So, yeah. Now I can think of you as a shiny golden man who I tell my secrets to. A golden man garbed in nothing but…wait, does the Oscar wear anything? Ew, is he naked? So you're a naked, shiny, golden man who I tell secrets to?

Okay, you know what, no. You're only named after my middle name. Not the award. Yeah…

Okay, I'm going to get my detention now. Bye, Oscar.

**Wednesday, November 19, 2009 at 1:53 PM in History**

Detention achieved.

It was so easy. All I had to do was spitball the teacher's head and instant detention. Tomorrow after school, I will figure out Derrick. He won't get away with what he (possibly) did to Miley.

**Thursday, November 20, 2009 at 4:12 PM in detention**

I am currently sitting next to the prime suspect.

Gosh, I sound like such a cool detective. They can call me Oliver Jones, P.I. Oken is a pretty cool last name, but Jones is a total detective last name. Detective Oken, Detective Jones. Which sounds cooler? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Sadly, Mr. Grant isn't detaining us today. It's Ms. Finkleberry, the old lady who teaches Geometry. Still, she's not that bad. All she does is sleep, so we have the whole detention to ourselves.

The only exception is the fact that she has her watch alarm set to go off every twenty minutes to wake her up. After she wakes up and sees that we are in our seats and everyone is still here, she goes back to sleep. That process takes five minutes.

So there's apparently some big process that happens for the detention regulars. Brian watches the clock and warns us when we have two minutes until Mrs. Finkleberry's alarm will go off. In those two minutes, we clean up whatever had been going on. It's pretty simple.

Anyway, while the rest of the class is off wrecking havoc in the room, Derrick is sitting next to me, carving things into his desk. Hold on, let me try to distract him so I can see what he's writing.

Well, that was easy. I just screamed, "Look! A monkey!" and pointed behind him. He looked and in that split second I caught a glimpse of his engravings. One said, "They call me Urban Legend."

The other one is a huge clue and a huge…unattainable wish on his part. It said, "MS" with a heart around it. It didn't take me long to figure out what it meant. "MS" is Miley's initials. Derrick is in love with Miley!

How dare he? I mean, Miley would never like a guy like that. She doesn't like bad guys. She likes good guys who are willing to do anything for her, the kind of guys who would risk anything just so she could be happy. Yeah, not bad guys.

Still, the fact that Derrick is in love with her means that he obviously is the cause of her leaving. Maybe he was stalking her? I know for a fact Miley would never date him without telling Lilly or I. No, she just wouldn't do that. Or would she? She did run away without telling us…

No. Miley wouldn't have dated him in the first place. He must have been stalking her. She's not into those types of guys. She can't be into those types of guys. Is she? If she is, then that's fine. I mean, the leather jacket wearing bad guys do appeal to some girls. But Miley? I don't think so. He must have stalked her.

Okay, maybe I'm jumping to some conclusions. Just because he's in love with Miley doesn't mean that he stalked her. It also doesn't mean that she loved him back. She's not into those guys. How many times do I have say this to you, Oscar? She does not like that type of guys.

Does she?

She couldn't have loved him back. That would have been unfair. To other guys, I mean. You know, to the guys who wanted to date her. And a lot of guys did, you know. Why wouldn't they? She's smart and pretty and witty and funny and, er, yeah. Those _other _guys would be disappointed if she was in love with Derrick. But Miley wouldn't have loved him back. Yeah, I'm just jumping to conclusions. Maybe I should try talking to him.

Yeah, I'll start a conversation and bring up Miley. Then, if he reacts to bringing her up, then he's for sure in love with her. Even if he is in love with her, that doesn't mean in any way that she would love him back.

Would she?

Never mind. Initiating conversation.

**Thursday, November 20, 2009 at 4: 25 PM in detention**

Mrs. Finkleberry just went back to sleep.

I still don't know if Derrick is in love with Miley. I was kind of really rude and nosy to him. Also, he probably hates me now. No, he definitely hates me. Anyway, let me describe the situation for you.

"Hey." I said.

"Hey." Derrick mumbled, putting final touches on his heart. I glanced at it, now the heart was on fire. A signal for his burning love for Miley, I suppose. It's disgusting. I can see why he creeped her out. Because I cannot repeat it enough, there is no way she was in love with him.

"That's a, uh, cool carving there." I smiled nervously, pointing to the heart. Derrick lifted up the penknife he'd used to carve it, almost looking like he was going to hurt me with it. I was pretty scared.

"This thing works wonders." He whispered. I gulped and nodded. I glanced at Mrs. Finkleberry. She was still asleep, and would be for another fifteen minutes. That was enough time for Derrick to kill me, cut me up in little pieces, and eat me. Okay, maybe not eat me. But get rid of the remains.

"Um, yeah. That's a nice knife." I complimented uneasily. I looked around the classroom to see if anyone was watching.

Brian was staring fixedly at the clock, even though he still had fifteen minutes. Dan and Wes were both thoroughly reading a skating magazine, considering skateboards to buy. Craig was tossing a football around with Dennis while Andromeda was simultaneously trying to sell him a pair of sunglasses. And from the sounds coming from beneath the table in the back of the room, it was easy to figure out what Adam and Candee were doing.

Basically, if Derrick decided to kill me, the only person who would see was Fantasia, who would just laugh at all the blood. Heck, she might've even helped. She doesn't really hate me, but she does love gore.

"It used to be my dad's. He built a lot of stuff." Derrick said quietly, silent admiration in his eyes. Now, if I was a commonsensical person, I would have known to just hedge around the subject. But since when did I have any sense?

"Oh, why did he give it to you?" I asked stupidly. I should have seen a touchy subject when I saw it, but like the idiot I am, I didn't. Seriously, I need lessons on proper manners. I was definitely prying.

"Because his will said it was to be given to me." Derrick snapped. Now, if I wasn't a donut, I would have changed the subject. I had a mission. But I said possibly the least insightful thing ever.

"But you only get the things in a will if the person dies." I laughed, as if he had forgotten that simple fact. He tightened his grip on the knife, causing me to squirm in my seat a bit. He looked pretty angry.

"He is dead, you idiot." Derrick growled. It was then that I realized how stupid I was and that if I wanted to keep my life, I'd better change the subject.

"Um, well my dad doesn't build stuff. But my old friend's dad tried to build a bookcase once. You remember Miley?" I said, getting straight to the point. I looked closely at Derrick's expression, but he showed no sign of emotion.

"Your friend's dad is named Miley?" Derrick asked disbelievingly.

"No, my friend is. Do you remember Miley Stewart from last year?" I asked carefully, still checking for any change of emotion. Derrick didn't seem bothered by anything I was saying. Then again, he didn't seem like a real emotional guy.

"No. And I don't know her dad either." Derrick said flatly. Before I could ask anything else, he grabbed his things and walked to a desk on the other side of the room. Obviously I had offended him very badly.

So, I'm still unsure of whether or not Derrick was involved with Miley. He still could be in love with her, since he proclaimed his burning love for her on his desk. But I am one hundred percent positive that Miley did not love him back. He's not her type.

Or does she like leather jacket wearing bad guys? I guess she could. She did like Jake. He wasn't really a bad guy, but he had a leather jacket. And now that I think of it, so did Dex, her freshman crush. And so did Johnny Collins.

Oh my god. Miley likes guys who wear leather jackets. I hadn't noticed before. Why haven't I ever noticed this? I should have noticed this before. I guess I never really paid that much attention to Miley's boyfriends' jackets.

Leather jackets, huh. That's interesting.

**Saturday, November 22, 2009 at 6:27 PM in my dad's car**

I am about to sacrifice my masculinity for the sake of my best friend.

I guess I should have expected this, with the whole fact that she's a girl and everything. Still, the idea that I would have to do this never crossed my mind until she came up to me and…er, let me just recount the details.

"Hey, Oliver. I need you to do me a favor." Miley said casually, as if said favor wasn't the most disturbing thing I'd ever do in my whole life. She was sitting next to me on my bed while I was figuring out a proof for Geometry homework.

"Hmm?" I asked, barely paying attention. I was more focused on figuring out why _a_ equaled _b_.

"Um, wow, this is weird. But, uh, I'm getting my, er, _gift _from Mother Nature soon and I kind of, well…I sort of need you to buy me some, uh, _supplies_." She nervously muttered. My reaction was one neither of us were expecting.

I let out a strange sort of disgusted groan and jumped at the same time, causing my pencil to make a jagged mark across my paper. For some odd reason, I also flailed my arms in the air, causing me to also fall off the bed.

"Tampax or Always?" I mumbled into the carpet after I got over my initial shock. Why I know the brand names I have no idea. I'm _hoping _that it's from the many commercials on TV, and not for some other distorted reason I can't recall.

"Uh, Tampax please." Miley called, sounding thoroughly embarrassed.

Which led me to go to my dad, insisting to him that he needed to drive me to the drug store in Pasadena. Which is where we are now, my dad complaining about the price of gas and how stupid it was that we had to drive so far.

That's it. I'm going in.

**Saturday, November 22, 2009 at 6:46 PM in my dad's car**

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to mourn the death of a dear, dear friend.

He left us much, much too soon. He was much revered, though we all have always known he would leave us some day. Sadly, he didn't even leave in peace. He was brutally ripped away from us.

We are here to grieve the death of Oliver's masculinity.

That's right. I was praying that, since I was in Pasadena, I wouldn't run into anyone I knew. Well, apparently I've done some pretty bad things recently, because karma really threw that plan right back in my face.

I'll pick up where I left off.

So I walked in the store, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible. I started off looking at diapers, which are right next to the feminine products. Better if someone thought I was a teen father than catch me buying tampons.

After a few minutes, I inched over to the products I really needed to get. I took a quick look around the store. The clerk was looking through a magazine with a bored expression on her face, popping her bubble gum every minute or so. The only other customer was an old woman comparing brands of denture cream.

I carefully picked up a box and read the back. It used about five words I didn't know, and about ten I didn't want to hear. Still, I thought, Miley deserved the best. So I would suck it up and deal with words like "uterus" and "absorbency".

I was in the middle of deliberating between Pearl and Sport when the door opened. I didn't think of it, I just kept thinking over which type to buy.

"Oliver?" An all too familiar voice asked. Of all the people to meet me in a random drug store in Pasadena, why Lilly? Couldn't it have been someone who couldn't use what I was doing against me? Someone who would just laugh and then forget about it?

"Oh, uh, hi," I said, sounding a bit like I was just caught committing murder. I apprehensively looked her way. Surprisingly, she looked like the old Lilly. You know, cargo kapris, long sleeve thermal, short sleeve hoodie, and right down to the beanie on her head. Lilly looked strangely at me, then her eyes slowly trailed down to what was my hands.

"Uh, why are you buying tampons?" She asked suspiciously. I prayed she wasn't in a bad mood. Maybe she would have a heart and actually keep this incident from her two best friends.

"Yeeeah. They're for, uh, my _mom_." I lied, using the only girl in my family as an excuse. What was I supposed to say? "They're for your ex best friend, who is currently a runaway taking refuge in my attic, my parents completely unaware of that fact."? Yeah, that would go over real smoothly.

"So why doesn't your _mom_ buy them?" She asked, as if I was overlooking a huge detail.

"She's, um, working on a really big case right now. She, er, didn't have time." I said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. Though I know my mom would never get a big case. All she ever investigates is small little shoplifting cases.

"Your mom is so busy at work that she doesn't have the time to buy her own _tampons_?" Lilly asked, a hint of incredulity in her voice. I cringed at that last word.

"Don't call them that. Call them, uh, toothbrushes." I suggested, not wanting to speak the word anymore. I was expecting Lilly to just laugh off the suggestion, but she nodded her head in agreement.

"Okay. Well, why are you buying _toothbrushes_ in Pasadena? Wouldn't it be easier to get them back in Malibu?" She asked, walking over to my side.

"I was kind of hoping that no one I knew would be in a drugstore here, but you are evidence that that plan didn't work out. Why are you here, anyway?" I asked, sounding unintentionally rude.

"Well, _I'm_ here visiting my grandmother. She left me in the car while she came into the store. She's right over there. She was taking a while, so I came in to check on her." Lilly explained, pointing to the denture cream lady.

"Oh, okay. So, uh, which should I get? Pearl or Sport?" I asked uneasily, trying to keep the conversation from getting too casual. Our near friendly conversation was already making me feel awkward, I didn't want it to get worse.

"Pearl. That's what I use." Lilly said nonchalantly. I tried to keep down the vomit that was coming up my throat. Now the last thing I ever wanted to know was what type of, er, _toothbrushes_ Lilly uses.

"Um, okay." I said, trying to hint that I wanted the conversation to end. First Lilly acts friendly, now she tells me her toothbrush preference? That's definitely gag-worthy for me. Lilly didn't pick up the hint.

"So, uh, have you talked to any of the Stewarts lately?" She asked, sounding desperate for another topic to talk about. Of course she would choose a difficult topic. Way to keep the conversation light, Lilly.

"Oh, uh, no, I haven't talked to Jackson or Mr. Stewart lately." I said, skirting around the real truth. If only she knew that I talked to one of the Stewarts every day…

"Oh. Me neither." Lilly mumbled. She was probably waiting for a response, but I couldn't think of anything to say to her that wasn't rude. Because, really, I had a lot of insults forming in my head.

"Um…so did you finish that Geometry homework?" I finally asked. It was the only subject I could think of. I didn't look at Lilly's face, I just kept my eyes on the box of toothbrushes.

"Oliver?" Lilly asked hesitantly. I was surprised at the sudden change of her tone.

"Um, yeah?" I answered. She looked as if something was troubling her.

"What happened to us? How did we go from being best friends to having to resort to talk about school work? How did we end up like this?" Lilly asked quietly. I was a bit shocked at her questions, but the answer brought me back to earth.

This was Lilly I was talking to. Her best friends torment me every day, they are the reasons for my detentions. She is the girl who cares more about her nails than anything else. I have every reason in the world to hate Lilly.

"You betrayed me, that's how. Now if you don't mind, I have to buy these." I said hostily. I grabbed the box of Tampax Sport, waving it in her face to let her know that I didn't use her suggestion.

I didn't turn around as I walked to the check out counter. I grabbed a bag of chips, so I would have something to show my dad that I bought. I approached the counter and delicately placed my items on it.

The cashier let out an annoyed sigh and put down her magazine. I ignored her purple hair and various facial piercings, just wanting to get out of the store. The cashier rang up my items, then gave me the total. I handed her my money.

"Would you like me to double bag this?" She asked monotonously.

"Yes. Wait, no. Can you triple bag it?" I asked. She didn't answer and just shoved my stuff in three bags. She threw it at me, then picked her magazine back up. I ran out of the store, praying that Lilly wasn't watching.

When I got in the car, I managed to convince my dad that I only bought a bag of chips. With a disbelieving and angry expression, he started the car and we were on our way.

So, there is a pro and con about my meeting with Lilly. The pro is that I got to totally diss her and be like "Yeah, it's all your fault we're not friends anymore, and you know it." The down side is that she probably is pissed at me now and is going to tell her best friends about the whole toothbrushes thing. Yay.

Oh well, I don't regret it.

Miley is worth it, Oscar.

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**So, what'd you think? Well, don't just think your answer! Jot it down in a nice little (or long) review. Gracias! ****Hmm, so a lot has happened in this chapter. A new lead, a new friend, a new humilating moment to go on Oliver's really long list of humiliating moments. Please, tell me what you think.**

**Oh, and I realized something. Seeing that this would never actually happen in the TV show, would this story be considered AU? I couldn't figure it out.**


	4. All The Single Ladies

**So...yeah. I bet some of you forgot that you subscribed to this story, eh? Longer author's note/apology at the bottom.**

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own the show.**

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**Monday, November 24, 2009 at 12:07 PM in the cafeteria**

Well, Emma sits with me at lunch now. So at least I don't look like a loner anymore.

Sadly, there is another flaw of Emma's that I hadn't noticed when I first met her. I don't know why, it is sort of painfully obvious.

Emma is _obsessed_ with Hannah Montana.

I mean really obsessed. According to her, she convinced her parents last winter to take her to the Alps, just so she might get a glimpse of Hannah. I didn't need her to tell me to know that she didn't see her. Only Lilly, Jackson, Robbie Ray, and I know that Hannah never was in the Alps.

So I discovered this obsession today in first period, where Emma was babbling on about some homework assignment or something. I tuned her out automatically, like I do a lot of the time I talk to her. Well, when _she _talks to _me_. I just get a few words in.

"…goat milk…Mount Everest…_Hannah Montana_…hotel's are exspensive." That's all I can remember from the ramble she had going on. I immediately froze at the name Hannah Montana.

"What about Hannah Montana?" I asked quickly. Emma seemed surprised at my sudden interruption, then composed herself again.

"I was talking about the Alps. I heard that all you can drink is goat milk because it doesn't freeze in the temperatures of Mount Everest. Then I said that only people like Hannah Montana _could _go there, because the hotels there are so exspensive." She explained, seeming slightly annoyed that I wasn't listening.

"Oh. Yeah, Hannah Montana is in the Alps. Right, I forgot." I mumbled. I'm pretty sure the goat milk thing was false, but I didn't want to anger my only friend (that goes to school) any more by correcting her.

"You _forgot_?" Emma asked, saying "forgot" as if it was a curse word.

"Uh, yeah. I don't think about Hannah Montana that much, sorry." Her alter ego, on the other hand…

"How can you forget the greatest singer of all time? Nobody's Perfect, True Friend, Best of Both Worlds, Who Said! How can you forget the person behind all of those hits?" Emma almost screamed.

"I dunno. Don't get me wrong, I think Hannah is the greatest singer of all time, too." I admitted. Of course I think Miley is the best. It was her voice that I had listened to every day on repeat for the past year, up until about two weeks ago, when I got to hear the real thing again.

"Well of course you do, since she is. Her music is so inspirational, I almost cry every time I hear True Friend. That's how I feel about you, Oliver. Listen to the lyrics and you'll hear exactly how I think of you." Emma smiled.

Uh, awkward much?

I wasn't going to just lie and say that I thought of her like that, too. Because I don't. Emma is not a true friend. She's a friend, of course. But I can't think of her as a true friend.

I've only ever had one true friend. Miley. I thought Lilly was my true friend, but that idea was proven wrong by Amber and Ashley. So all that is left is Miley. I guess I'm the same for her, since she came to me first.

"Uh, thanks." I muttered. I didn't look at Emma's face, though I knew she was probably disappointed that I didn't say that I thought of her as my true friend, too.

"So, what's with the sudden Hannah Montana talk?" I asked, changing the subject before she could get even angrier with me. Why is it that I'm suddenly giving my only friend (in school) reason to be unhappy with me?

"Oliver, I've always been a Hannah fan. Do you know the website Hannah World?" Emma asked. Of course I knew the site, it's the biggest Hannah Montana fansite out there.

"Yeah."

"I made it." Emma whispered. I felt my jaw drop. I'd been on the site, I'd read the creator's blog.

It was a unanimously known fact that the creator of Hannah World was creepily obsessed with her. Not in a stalkerish way, but like obsessed fangirl times five million. They knew every fact, saw every picture, read every news story, even memorized each magazine article.

"The creator of the site is named Emily." I pointed out quickly.

"That's my alias. I don't _want_ everyone to know that I'm the crazily obsessed Hannah fan who runs the website. But, since you're my true friend, I thought I'd tell you." Emma smiled, patting my hand. I quickly placed my hand under the table, away from her reach.

"Um, what's the most obsessed thing you've done, then?" I asked. I want to know the level of her obsession, just so I could stop myself from making any other Hannah slip ups.

"I convinced my parents to take me to the Alps for vacation last winter. I spent the whole time searching Hannah, but I couldn't find her. I guess she really is in a secluded area." Emma huffed.

I nodded slowly, trying not to seem freaked out. But I was. I still am, and I've had the whole rest of lunch to process it. Now I have two major problems having to do with Emma.

One, she is freakishly obsessed with my best friend's alter ego. Two, she thinks I am her 'true friend' and is under the impression I see her the same way.

I sure know how to pick them great.

**Tuesday, November 25, 2009 at 7:23 PM outside of my room**

Oscar, have you ever done something for the sake of a plan that, when you look back on it, was a completely stupid plan that would never work, but when you were carrying it out seemed foolproof and made complete sense?

Don't answer that. Wait, you can't answer that. Which is also why I know that you haven't ever done that.

Well, I've done something that stupid. In fact, I feel pretty stupid right now. I have this plan. It's not complete yet, but I know it will end badly. I just know it. You see, I did something really weird.

I bought a leather jacket.

I know that it doesn't seem too odd, but it's the plan behind the leather jacket that is stupid. You see, I figured that I had to find a way to test my theory on whether or not Miley likes guys who wear leather jackets. Because if I can deduce that she does like leather jacket guys, then I can also assume that Derrick is the reason she left.

Alright, I know what you would be thinking if you had a brain. Oliver, didn't you just eliminate Derrick as a suspect a few days ago? The answer is yes, but I was naïve. You see, I was watching CSI the other day and I realized something about all the criminals. They all lied at some point. So what if Derrick was lying to me?

The only way to really find out if he has a connection with Miley is to test Miley, who wouldn't lie to me. Or at least I don't think she would…no, she definitely wouldn't.

So I bought a leather jacket and…well, that's where the next step of the plan comes in. I figured that if I wore the leather jacket and Miley became completely infatuated with me, then I could come to the conclusion that leather jacket guys are her type.

I know, I know. It sounds really stupid. But when I bought the jacket, it seemed like a genuis plan.

So now I'm standing outside the door to my own room debating whether or not to walk in with the leather jacket (which is still in the bag) on or off. Speaking of which, standing up and writing is very uncomfortable. But I thought that these thoughts should be written down.

So what do you think? Wear the jacket, or act like I never bought it? I mean, it would be for the sake of investigation. Besides, would Miley being infatuated with me really be all that bad? Or what if, on the other side of things, she laughed at my jacket? I would be so embarrassed.

What should I do? Wait a minute, Oscar, you can't answer. Why am I asking you?

That's it. I'm putting on the jacket and going right in there.

I can do it.

**Tuesday, November 25, 2009 at 7:26 PM in my room**

So, Miley is in the attic.

I should have figured she would be up there. She's not stupid enough to just be sitting in my room while my parents are home. They could walk in at any moment, and would have been surprised if they saw Miley, after being gone for a whole year, sitting in my bedroom.

So now I'm faced with yet another predicament. Should I just go up to the attic and pretend that nothing is going on, or should I stay down here and not force myself on her? She usually knows when to come down.

As I have recently realized, my parents are very predictable. Every night, they have the same pattern. You see, through their entire goings on, they always make time for the ten o'clock news. No matter what, they're there to watch it.

When my great aunt was about to croak in the hospital, they made sure to be home in time for the ten o'clock news. When my cousin had her school play, they left early (before the scene where my cousin said her first and only line) just so they wouldn't miss the ten o'clock news. When my uncle got remarried, they left the reception to watch the ten o'clock news.

It's like their obsession. But the worst part is that they always, and I mean always, fall asleep within the first fifteen minutes of the news. They make such a big deal out of watching it, but they always miss ninety percent of the reports.

Miley usually comes down from the attic around 10:30. And that's about three hours from now. So should I just sit here, wearing my leather jacket, until she comes down? That would be pretty boring, just sitting here waiting for her. I could always go up…

Yeah, I'll do that. I'm going to go up to the attic to let her see my awesome jacket.

**Tuesday, November 25, 2009 at 7:37 PM in my room**

Oscar, you should have stopped me when you had the chance.

On the bright side, though, she didn't laugh at the fact that it was a leather jacket. On the dark side, I didn't prove anything. Just that I never think anything through, even after I chastise myself for not thinking things through.

So, here's what happened.

I uneasily put on the jacket, which had a very strange fit. It had lots of buttons and zippers that I didn't really know how to fasten. It also had this weird design on the front that I didn't really understand. Overall, the whole jacket was confusing.

But I climbed into the attic anyway, wearing my perplexing leather jacket, nervously anticipating Miley's reaction. When I looked around, I saw that she was lying on the dusty bed, looking up at me oddly. I don't think she had been expecting me to visit her.

"Hey, Miles." I smiled, giving her a small wave.

She sat up, then sneezed from the dust cloud it caused. She then stood up and walked towards me, still looking strangely at me. It suddenly dawned on me that she must be awestruck by the allure of my leather jacket.

"Oliver, what are you wearing?" She asked, looking at my jacket. I smiled, so she did have a thing for leather jacket men.

"Oh, this? This is just something I found in my closet. It's nice, isn't it? I thought I'd wear it. The design on the front is pretty cool, too." I bragged, happy that my plan had succeeded. Well, I'd thought it had succeeded. But boy was I wrong.

"Well, it is nice, it's just that—"

"It makes me look completely irresistible?" I cut in. Miley held in a laugh and then shook her head. I sighed, she was afraid to admit that my leather jacket had caused her to fall in love with me. It was a sad sight.

"No, Oliver. Not that. The jacket is—"

"So incredibly sexy looking that you can't help but to see me as gorgeous?" I interrupted again.

"Well, no, not really, Oliver. What I'm trying to say is that that jacket—"

"Will make girls fall all over me, so I shouldn't wear it in public too much?" I cut in once again. Miley groaned in annoyance.

"No, Oliver. Please stop interrupting me. What I'm trying to say is—"

"Look Miley, I don't understand why you won't admit that this jacket makes me look completely irresistible and handsome. It's not that hard to say, either. Just admit it, Miles. I won't judge y—" I started, but she interrupted me before I could finish.

"Oliver, you're wearing a woman's jacket!" Miley yelled.

My eyes widened in horror. I quickly looked down at the jacket. It was a bit too form-fitting, but other than that I couldn't see anything that made her think it was for women. I felt relief wash through me when I realized she had just made a simple mistake.

"What? No way, Miley. This is a man's jacket. Trust me, I would know." I laughed. Miley raised an eyebrow, seeming to challenge my words.

"Really? If that's a man's jacket then why does it say 'Single Lady' in pink on the back?" Miley asked. I quickly turned around to look at the back, which I had just realized I had never seen. When I couldn't see the back, I tried to turn my head even more. Instead of allowing me to see it better, the action only resulted in me spinning in circles like an idiot.

When I finally realized that twirling around like a maniac wasn't helping, I then tried to take off the jacket. Unfortunately for me, the zillion buttons and zippers were like a web of clasps with the sole purpose of keeping the jacket on my body.

Miley laughed, then stepped forward to help unfasten the many buttons. After a few moments, I realized how close we were. If one of us took just one tiny step forward, we would be hugging. Suddenly, I wanted to hug Miley. I wanted to take her into my arms and hold her until I had to go back down into my bedroom.

I resisted the urge, though, telling myself over and over again that it was just Miley. Finally, after chanting "It's just Miley" in my head about five thousand times, Miley stepped back. I looked down; all of the fastenings were undone.

I quickly took the jacket off and looked at the back of it. Just like Miley had said, "Single Lady" was written in a flowing, pink script. I groaned, realizing that my stupid plan had been completely fruitless.

"Oh, and that design on the front? Look closely at it, Oliver. It's two halves of a heart connected by weird threads." Miley pointed out. I examined the design and, to my embarrassment, found that Miley was right. It was a broken heart connected by a swirly, random web.

"Are you kidding me? I spent fifty bucks on this thing. It's nonreturnable." I groaned.

"Well, I can't really offer that many words of wisdom. Other than, you know, next time you buy woman's clothing, make sure it's not completely hideous. Because if it wasn't, I might have offered to keep it." Miley laughed.

"You know what, Miley? You can keep it. Use it for when it gets cold." I offered coldly, throwing the jacket at her. She gave me one of those "you're overreacting" looks, but I ignored it and climbed down from the attic.

Which leads to me sitting here, writing in you about what an idiot I am.

Because, in the past two days, I have succeeded in gaining a stalker friend at school and immensely embarrassing myself in front of my real best friend. Why do I even try not to fail? It seems like I can't succeed.

Maybe Miley was right, I am overreacting. I mean, I just did two tiny little things, and poor Miley's been through something horrible. Maybe I should go apologize for my odd behavior? Or maybe it'd be best if we forgot the whole thing ever happened. But what if she remembers this moment forever and eternally holds a grudge for it?

That's it, I'm going to apologize.

**Tuesday, November 25, 2009 at 8:49 PM in my room**

Oh my god.

Oscar, I've found something. I've found something big. This is…this turns my whole entire investigation in a completely new direction. Perhaps I owe you some explaining, Oscar.

I climbed up to the attic with the full intent of apologizing to Miley for my insanity. I had even written a little speech in my head so I wouldn't get too nervous. But when I got there, I saw that Miley was gone.

At first I feared the worst, which was that she had left again and I wouldn't see her for another long stretch of time. But I quickly remembered that I had been in my room the whole time, so she couldn't have left. It was at that moment I heard a slight humming coming from the side room in the attic. I sighed, she was just in her little private room.

I went to go knock on the side room's door, but before I even took a step something caught my eye on her bed. It was her jacket. The same jacket that she had owned before she ran away, and the same one that she had taken with her when she left.

I knew it would be an invasion of privacy to look through her jacket, but my curiosity overpowered my reason and forced me to sneak over to her bed. If she heard me, she would come out of the room, and the chance would be lost.

Oscar, I swear, I only lifted up the jacket. I didn't even rifle through the pockets. Alright, so maybe I rustled it a little bit, but that doesn't really count, does it? Anyway, without actually going through the jacket, something small slipped out of one of the pockets and onto the ground.

A piece of paper.

I quickly picked it up and raced back to my room, afraid that Miley would come back out at any second. I paused for a second to make sure the coast was clear, then looked down at the small slip of paper in my hand.

But it wasn't just a small slip of paper. It was a bus ticket, and the date on it is during the time that Miley was gone. But that's not all. The bus ticket came from Stratford, Utah, though the destination was faded away.

Do you know what this means, Oscar? This means that I know the name of a town where Miley stayed when she was gone. From the date, I don't think she stayed there the whole time, but she was still there. If I could just find someone there who remembers her, I would be one step closer to solving this mystery.

Suddenly, I don't care as much about the leather jacket fiasco.

**So, if you don't want an explanation you don't have to read this. But maybe you could review? :D**

**I understand that I haven't updated this story in eons. The reason for this is the combination of many things, but primarily the facts that I lacked inspiration and that I stopped liking Hannah Montana. I'm sorry that I didn't take out the time to put it on hiatus or even give you guys a little explanatory author's note, but I always sort of hoped that I'd get around to a new chapter. Well, after the pleading from several of you who were still dedicated to this story, I decided that I'm going to finish this thing. I have it all mapped out, so I know where I was planning to go with it. Though I'm not sure how often updates will come, they most certainly will come faster than this last one did. Also, the story may end up being shorter than planned because of the squishing together of various large events. Still, I promise to do my best with it.**

**Once again, my apologies. If you still like this story after all this time, I would very much appreciate your reviews. If not, then I'm sorry I let you down. :(**


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